Showing results by author "Robyn Peterman" in All Categories

Apparently, there’s no rest for the over-forty crowd. Yes, I have fabulous friends. Yes, I have a beautiful baby. Yes, the ghosts are coming back home. Yes, I’m in love with the Grim Reaper. However, that sexy Demon has got some major ’splainin’ to do … like his possible involvement in the shocking kidnapping of my worst and most deadly enemy. With a drag queen and an ice queen as my back up, we’re going to sashay away into the Darkness to find the truth and turn a wrong into a right. Although, I’m learning fast that black and white are often clouded with shades of gray.

With the darkness on the horizon, I need to clear my name and get to work. Forming a Goodness Army is on the top of the list. Shockingly, my army consists of my wacky-tabacky-smoking aunt, my high school counselor who can shift into a house cat, the town gossip who turns invisible after downing five beers, and a few fabulous others with nefarious talents. And of course, a cast of fictional characters...who I created and definitely have an opinion on how I should proceed.

Welcome to my own personal hell. Name: Heathcliff. Occupation: Vampyre Warrior - one of the deadliest in the world. I plan. I fight. I win. Always. However, it's never taken me this damned long to get what I want before. Only I would be blessed with a Vampyre mate I'd have to chase for two centuries. The chemistry between us is steamy, and the sex is sizzling, but I want more - I want it all. Now, just as I'm finally wearing Raquel down, I find I have competition, not for my mate's hand but for her very existence.

How in the Goddess’s name did I get stuck at the Witchypoo Convention at Rump Arena in Hexington, Kentucky? Whoops...my bad. Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky. Whatever. It’s like one cavernous indoor garage sale of “magic” crap. It’s nothing more than a convention of human wanna-be witches in pointy ankle boots and half-price black hats...Baba Yopaininmybutt sent me to root out the very evil shenanigans going down in the sea of faux witches, mummies, and vamps...Listen to find out more!

Not sure who I screwed over in a past life to end up with a heinous mother-in-law who thinks my wedding is for her. If I didn’t love Chance more than myself, I’d rethink the entire hot mess. Problem: I’ve been instructed to show up in Hell on my wedding day with six bridesmaids. I have two friends in total. Problem solved: Go to a supernatural plasticware party at the community center and blackmail a few gals into being bridesmaids. New problem: The gals I coerced bring their own brand of crazy to the party. Whatever. Chance is the demon of my dreams. He loves me, fur and all.

What's the Devil to do when his fire no longer burns away his sins and Fate is screwing with his...well, fate? Easy - lie, cheat, steal, and dictate my questionably accurate autobiography-slash-romance-novel to my unwilling and outstandingly rude Vampyre niece. Welcome to my Hell. A mysterious darkness is gunning for me and this time it might prevail. Traveling to Earth to promote my best-selling romance novel at an alarming book convention where I must protect my privates from the rabid lady readers is enough to frighten even the Devil.

The love of my dastardly immortal life is eating everything that isn't nailed down and tried to behead me over a chocolate croissant. While I take chocolate croissants very seriously, I do believe decapitation is somewhat harsh. My daughters, the Seven Deadly Sins, are driving me to drink. Getting them mated off and the hell out of Hell is at the top on my agenda. The one thing that is keeping me sane - sane being a relative word - is my upcoming special day.

After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I’ve decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kick-ass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I’m dating the Grim Reaper, it’s a freakin’ party. The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She’s responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me, being taken away.

Mixing heaven and hell on my cousin's famous birthday seemed like such a brilliant idea. I wanted my baby's first Christmas to be special - memorable. I'd like to chalk my heinous idea up to having been falling-down drunk, but that won't fly, as it's insanely difficult for a Vampyre to tie one on. So instead I'll deal with obscene gifts from relatives, kidnapped rock stars, and catering by Mother Nature.

I did not order the extra slice of Armageddon to go with my midlife crisis. Apparently, if you’re an Immortal, it comes free of charge. I have until sundown tomorrow to get to a parallel plane of existence, save my family, and kick bad-guy butt all before the world ends. Impossible, right? Not according to my posse of whackado buddies. They like to remind me that nothing is impossible as long as I believe. Well, I’m about to be the mother of all believers.

Getting dumped by the Demon of my dreams wasn’t exactly in the game plan. Game plans suck. Throwing caution to the wind is my new motto. I used to be a semi-happily single Vampyre. As the Princess of the Australian Dominion, I have an enormous palace, a fabulous wardrobe, I don’t look a day over 30, and I have gobs of friends — most of whom would be happy to see me permanently deceased. However, they hide it well. In the violent world of the undead, I consider it a win.

I’m desperate to resign from the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF. Don’t judge. I didn’t name this crew of misfit Shifters so hear me out. After investigating a deadly Jazz Cabbage outbreak, I discover we need a necromancing demon to help solve the crime. My gay vampyre BFF, Dwayne, dated one of these gems several decades ago. Seems all we need to do is summon his evil butt into this plane of existence and poof, crisis solved. The question is, can we bring him back without causing a flesh-eating, end-of-the-world zombie apocalypse?

Going to Hell has never been on my bucket list...until now. The fact that I can speak that sentence without laughing or losing my mind is absurd. However, my life has veered into a very tricky tale that rivals any of my books. The villain has been banished. I’ve written her right into an infernal doom. Unfortunately, a few of my very dear friends, fictional and real, have been caught up in the horror story, and they’ve taken the trip down under as well. It’s my fault, and I can only see one way out...a plot twist of epic proportions.

Recently, I was given my own sitcom and my forties were looking fabulous. My dreams were finally coming true—were being the operative word. Of course, just when I think I might have a grip on my newly discovered Demon status, it all goes to Hell. Literally. I’ve gone from enemies-to-lovers back to enemies with the hottest Demon alive, who also happens to be the producer on my show. What I’d like to do is never see Abaddon’s stupidly handsome face again.

My name is Venus. I'm a 200-year old killing machine and I'm trading in my daggers and sword for a sparkly dress and an obscene swimsuit. Tiny strips of Lycra are not my typical battle wear, but when in Oklahoma... Armed with a fairly decent attitude, two debatably heterosexual insane old ladies, a woman I'd wanted to kill less than eight hours ago, and the possible love of my undead life, I'm in over my head with this. Of course I have no clue what this is going to entail, but that's never stopped me before.

I want to live my life in peace for a little while as opposed to pieces. I don’t know who I have to bribe to catch a break, but I’m willing to pay the big bucks. Apparently, no one got the memo. Midlife is one messy ride. Fine. I’m off to Lexington, Kentucky to find a self-proclaimed dragon who sports a mullet, beer belly and delusions of Immortal grandeur. This time he’s gone too far. He’s messed with me and mine for the last time. The way to end a dragon is to remove his tail. We thought we had. A tail is in the back. Right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Johnson from My Big Fat hairy Wedding, Dwayne from Shift Happens and Zorro from Magic and Mayhem are hanging out together and having the time of their lives. Get ready for one wild and hilarious ride with Johnson Jones’s Diary—adventure, mistaken identities, love, fashion, belly laughs and of course, a happily ever after.

The show must go on…even if it takes a U-turn into Hell. I have too much to lose if Pandora wins. With the love of my demonic life by my side, along with the profane, toothpick-loving Keeper of Fate, and a cast of inappropriate characters, I’m going to embrace this starring role. I have to. If I can’t solve the problem of unboxing the box, my life as I know it will be over. No TV show, no close-up, and, definitely, no Emmy. So, I’m onto my next gig. I have no clue how the episode will end.

What happens when an accountant decides to grab life by the horns and try something new? Apparently a pirate named Dave, a lot of pastel fleece, and blackmail - just to start with. Visualize and succeed, Oprah said. I was sure as hell trying, even if my campaign to score a job as the local weather girl had ended in a restraining order. Okay, TV was not my strength. But a lack of talent has never stopped me before. Which is why I've embarked on a writing career. I mean, how hard can it be to come up with a sexy romance?

According to Baba Yoscarybutt, it’s time for me to witch up or step back down into the Cornholio minor leagues. While Cornhole is definitely not my beanbag, I can’t stand to lose. I don’t want to be the next Baba Yaga. I’m doing just peachy as the Shifter Wanker who heals the clumsy idiots of Assjacket, West Virginia. I love my life. My werewolf mate is hotter than asphalt in August, my twins are adorable, my dad and brother rock, and I have real friends for the first time in my life.